


for all the perfect things that i doubt

by delinquents



Series: Song Inspired - HP [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (but only minor) - Freeform, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, I'll Be Good - Jaymes Young, Insecure Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley Bashing, Song Inspired, and being dumb, basically just draco throwing himself a pity party, dramione - Freeform, they don't break up despite what the summary says
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:21:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26448478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delinquents/pseuds/delinquents
Summary: "I'm always going to love you, Hermione Granger," He whispers into the silence of his room, loving the way her lips tug up quicker than her eyes brighten, the way she sinks into the comforter underneath her as the words settle in and the way she pulls him with her, "I don't know what you've done to me, but I never want to stop loving you."fic no.1 of the song series brought to you byI'll Be Good by Jaymes Young
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: Song Inspired - HP [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1922623
Comments: 4
Kudos: 119





	for all the perfect things that i doubt

**Author's Note:**

> some ron weasley bashing in here, but we genuinely love him in other fics
> 
> also, it's canon that Draco doesn't have a Patronus and I refuse to let our boy go without, so we're ignoring that here and he has one, sue me.

_I thought I saw the devil_

It's not that he's doubting his own feelings towards his girlfriend - despite the messages drilled into him from such a young age, he knows Hermione's well and truly way out of his league, and ten times the kind of girl Draco deserves - it's that _she's well and truly way out of his league and ten times the kind of girl Draco deserves._

Draco hates to admit it, but Weasley's right when he says Hermione's too good for him, that he doesn't deserve her, that after everything she was put through because of him and his family she's out of her bloody mind to think dating him is a good idea - and maybe he's not said it _out loud_ to them, but the Hogwarts gossip mill is one that can't be rivaled, and Weasley's not exactly _quiet_ about his disdain for Draco. 

For the most part, it is a good idea. They've always battled each other for the top spot in their classes, and now that they study together it's just further intensified that fight, always pushing each other to be better, aim higher; she keeps his cool for him when he can't control it; he teaches her limits, helps her figure out where her boundaries are, tells her it's okay that she's getting those nightmares after everything she's lived through. They work stupidly well together, _they fit_ , and if it wasn't for the marks on both of their arms Draco's convinced he wouldn't even think about _why_ she's with him. 

But the scarred writing on her arm still makes his jaw clench whenever he sees it, despite Hermione considering it long gone already; and she trails her fingers across the dark mark on his forearm whenever they're lying in bed together, and it doesn't matter how soothing the action is - or how much easier it feels to breathe when she sweeps a kiss to the skin there, to know that she's not letting that one mark define his entire future like everyone else - it doesn't matter because he looks at it and remembers the sounds of her screams as his aunt laid over her; how he'd dug his nails into his thighs two rooms away, not because of who it was or because he wanted to run and help, but because he was pitying himself for the family he'd been landed in at birth. 

He used to look in the mirror and see the heir to the Malfoy legacy. Born and raised in a family insistent on maintaining status, on looking and acting the part, he'd never had a reason to doubt what people would tell him. His family were surrounded by others just like theirs, he'd never questioned why they labeled others as 'blood traitors', or why the scorch marks on their family tree held so much weight. He just knew he didn't want his own name burnt off.

Now, looking in the mirror feels like a punishment all over again. That mark on his arm catches his eye every time, demands attention even when it's covered, demands Draco roll up his sleeve and pity himself all over again. He sees himself not struggling as his father held him steady, as his entire arm felt like it was being torn to pieces, as Voldemort had that sickly upward tilt of his mouth on his face the entire time he was branding a sixteen-year-old with a lifetime mark that would surely shun him from the rest of the world. 

Thin arms wrap around his middle, and suddenly the boy in his mirror doesn't look as pale anymore, doesn't look as desperate to cry as he did before. 

"Come back to bed," Hermione whispers into the dip between his tightened shoulder blades. One hand stays settled against his abdomen, thumb drifting over one button repeatedly, as the fingers on her right-hand flit up his chest and down his arm, knocking his hand out of the way and wrapping around the marked skin. 

Hermione relies on him to comfort her when nights get bad, or when her eyes can't concentrate in a lesson because she's been seeing stretched acres of trees for the past hour, but there are times where she's so put together and Draco breaks, and he only hates the weakness of it all when he wakes up the next morning against her chest, wishing they could just have one night where neither of them are reliving past nightmares. 

"Come back to bed," She repeats, kissing his shoulder and rounding him, slotting herself between his hips and the sink. He falls docile as her hands make gentle work of unbuttoning his shirt and untucking it from his slacks, sliding it down his arms but his hand shoots out to catch the falling material so fast they both flinch. 

Her fingers are cold against his chest, her lips warm as they follow a path from his collar to the corner of his mouth, "What are you thinking about?"

Hermione's never wanted his pity. Never wants to hear that he should have done something when she was lying trapped in his living room, or that he shouldn't have hesitated during the Battle, he should have said no to his parents sooner, should have stepped closer to the side fighting for Hogwarts, and not against. There should be something in him telling himself to mention the pity party he's throwing, that he's stupid for feeling sorry for himself, but Hermione's knocked it right out of him, told him it's alright to think like that just as much as it's alright for her to wish she'd never gone with Harry after Ron left. 

"We were all kids," He whispers, fingers clenched against his shirt, stopping it at the elbow, covering the mark because if he looks at it again he's going to reach for his wand and try all over again to get it off, "I didn't... They expected me to... _I was a kid_."

"You're still a kid," Hermione says, hand cupping the side of his neck, stroking at the curve of his jaw, "They haven't taken it all away from you. Don't let them finish what they started."

"I was still old enough to know better," At this point, Hermione knows how this is going to go, he knows this because she pushes him out of the bathroom and across the landing to his room, closes the door with her heel and unbuttons his trousers - the entire time he's holding his shirt up as it dangles off one arm. 

"I knew it was wrong," There's a moment as Hermione turns away to find something for him to change into where Draco has to choose between keeping the mark covered or reaching out for her, and the desperation for her to stay close wins over, just as it does every time. 

The surprised gasp that leaves her mouth would typically lead his mind to different thoughts - that mainly revolve around what he can do to hear it again - but cupping her face in his hands and trying to show her how sincere he's being is more important to him right now. 

"I knew it was wrong and I still did it," He keeps his grip light enough for her to step back, but all Hermione does is step closer and wrap her arms around his middle. When she pushes up to her toes he presses his mouth to her forehead, "Even when I was twelve, I... I knew all those names were disgusting and I still threw them at you every chance I could. Why are... I don't get... _it_. I don't get _it_."

"Get what?"

She's always so patient with him, even when he's being an arse and pushing her to her limits. Hermione likes to hide away when she's scared but he knows she won't talk unless she's prodded and jabbed at until she blabs, knows that she feels ten times better after she's done, knows that she waits for him to knock down her walls until she feels comfortable to talk; he knows that's best for her, and yet he doesn't know why she can't do the same for him. She runs her nails against his scalp and lets him suck bruises into her skin, wraps herself around him and whispers murmurs of praise he doesn't deserve into his ear, but the wall's he's kept firmly in place never get so much as a poke from her. She's waiting for him to bring them down himself, and he knows he won't respond well to her rushing him as he does with her, but it all gets added to the list of why he's just her lesser. 

" _This_ ," He's fierce and the grit in his voice scares him a little, but Hermione doesn't even bat an eye at him, just gives him the softest kiss imaginable and nods at him to continue, "You could do so much better."

"And I'll get better one day," She shrugs out of his embrace and pushes his hips, begins to walk him back towards his bed, "One day you're going to stop thinking you're doomed because of something you had no control over, and you'll turn to me and wonder why you thought I was settling for you because that's the day you realize you and I are both the same."

Her hands tug at his trousers, and he shucks them off as she continues talking, her hands trailing down his chest and to the band of his boxers, "One day we're both going to be able to look back at ourselves and we're going to remember how stupid we've been, but we're going to be so much better together then. And I can't wait, because we're pretty damn amazing together right now."

His mother's somewhere in the house, possibly in the room next door, and they've been so careful recently not to let his mother hear them, but right now all he's focused on is the delicious way she moans against his mouth as he slides his hand down the front of her pyjama shorts. There's a spell to muffle the room, and he knows it exists but the English language doesn't quite make sense to him when Hermione clenches around him as she's doing, and he definitely can't remember whatever Latin or Romanian or whatever made-up language wizards use for spells when she moans just for him. 

* * *

_I never meant to start a fire_

_I never meant to make you bleed_

If it was any of his friends he was worried about when it came to introducing Hermione as his _girlfriend_ and not just as _Granger_ , it was Pansy. Draco even planned to introduce Hermione around Christmas break, when Pansy's too busy consuming as many mince pies as she can rather than acknowledging whatever else is happening around them. He'd _even_ been careful to make sure Hermione didn't cross paths with any of his friends when they were at Hogwarts before the break. It was easy convincing his friends that he's just enjoying spending time with Hermione right now, that they're trying to work around the nightmares and the awkward-new-relationship stage before he introduces her to his friends (again). It was even easier to make sure Hermione didn't stumble across them between classes seeing as she was taking eleven where they were only taking nine, and therefore had less time to search them out.

There's also the matter of Hermione still not telling Harry and Ron of the full extent of their new relationship - which Draco isn't even offended by considering how much grief they get given for being on speaking terms anyway. Ron stiffens anytime Draco so much as passes Hermione in the corridors, so he'd probably spontaneously combust when he finds out that they're sleeping together - which Draco only half wants to see happen. There's been a few times where they'd been snogging in a hidden alcove of the fifth-floor corridor and Hermione had sprung away from him seconds before Ron had somehow stumbled across them, where Draco had really wished Hermione didn't have the hearing of a bat just to see Ron's reaction. 

"It'll be fine," Hermione squeezes his hand as Narcissa sweeps ahead of them and into the Parkinson Manor, lit up with the lights and sounds of their annual Christmas party. It's busier than last year because Draco's dad's in Azkaban and Narcissa's refused to throw their Christmas Eve Ball they typically have, so all guests that normally choose between the Parkinson's and Malfoy's have now congregated in Pansy's home - alongside those lacking the pureblood heritage that was often the invitation. 

"I know," Draco sighs, heaving another breath in as their feet start moving in time with each other, "Just..." He trails off, not quite knowing where he was going. _Just not sure Pansy thinks this is a good idea - Just think Pansy's going to look at the mark on his arm and the scrawl of the scar on Hermione's and question it - Just know that Pansy's well aware that Hermione's ten times the girl Draco deserves and she has no filter, she'll definitely say it to their faces._

"Okay," Hermione stops them just before they reach the front doors, and tugs him closer to her as she leans against one of the pillars off to the side and away from any latecomers, "We'll go in, we'll be polite and you can introduce me to Pansy however and whenever you want to, and afterward if you want to leave and do something else I'll happily go with you."

He catches her mouth in a bruising kiss that leaves them both a little breathless, but the smile she lets out against his lips is so worth it, "You're pretty great, you know that Granger?"

"Yep, you tell me about six times a day," She chuckles, pushing up to her eyes and sliding her arms around his neck, "You're pretty great too, Malfoy."

"Practically made for each other," He murmurs against her mouth again, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning his full body weight against hers to cage her between him and the pillar at her back. 

He can't control whatever happens as soon as they get into the damn party - it's swarming with Pureblood families, many of who still hold secret prejudice against people like Hermione, it's swarming with people wanting to know everything about them, people who had only heard rumours that a Malfoy had started dating a Muggleborn and don't believe it; there's Pansy and Pansy's mother, who both want to be introduced to Hermione the proper way, who want to sit with her and tease Draco for the way he slicked his hair back in first year; there's his mother who's still adjusting to life after the war, who can't fully understand the nightmare's Draco's been living and doesn't understand how Hermione's the only one who he can stand being close to him when he breaks down. 

He can't control any of it, but he can control this moment where it's all quiet and Hermione's messing up his hair. She's wearing a dress that doesn't help the images in Draco's mind, especially when he slides his hand underneath his blazer draped over her shoulders only to find the dress is backless and hugs her skin in all the right places. 

"We should just leave now," He mutters, ducking his head to mouth at her jaw before deciding he'd much rather be kissing her, "You've already met Pansy, we don't need to be here."

"Nice try," She huffs, pushing his shoulders away and smoothing her palms down his arms to lock their fingers together, "I was promised that your mother's going to dig out those photo albums from when you two were little."

"Exactly why we should leave."

He misses the days where Hermione didn't know about spells to keep her make up in place. She rarely wears any, only really puts it on when he drags her to whatever event he's forced into going to and pulling away from her in a deserted corridor to see the way her lipstick's smudged and cheeks flushed under the layer of foundation was always a sight to behold. She'd huff at him, get playful as he reached for her whilst she was waving her wand to fix it, and he always liked the moments where she'll pull him away from sight quickly to wipe the smudges of her lipstick on his mouth. 

There's an upside to her figuring out the charm to keep her makeup in place all night, considering now she just melts back into him when he pulls her in for another kiss, but he misses watching her go from breathless and smudged makeup to immaculate and done up anyway. 

Pansy's waiting for them as soon as they step foot into the party, and barely says hello before she's grabbing Hermione's wrist and dragging her out to the dancefloor. Draco slouches against the bar and watches as the girls spin each other and laugh loudly, occasionally looking over at him before collapsing into giggles all over again. 

There's an uneasy feeling in his stomach as he watches them dance together. He was so sure he'd have to battle Pansy on this - whether in front of Hermione or not - but watching them now he can clearly see that Pansy seems to agree with his choices, and he's not actively hoping his friends don't like Hermione, but it makes him feel like he's been focusing so much on the negatives of their relationships and pushing his insecurities as other people's this whole time. 

"I like her," Pansy says an hour later, joining Draco out on the balcony as he smokes. She's nursing a whiskey in her hands, cheeks flushed from the humidity in the room that no one can be bothered to fix with a wave of their wand. 

"You didn't leave her for the wolves did you?"

Pansy rolls her eyes and knocks their elbows together, "She's right there, you twat."

He can see her halfway across the room, crouching down to talk to Pansy's younger cousin, Ella, and Draco has to laugh when he catches sight of the book in Ella's hands and the matching excited expressions on both of their faces. 

"She's good," Pansy says gently, "Told me you were worried about me tonight."

"Not necessarily _you-_ "

"My _reaction_ , then," She huffs, "Which is total bullshit by the way. You know we all like her or we would have you told you when you first got into it. Do you even know your own friends?"

The last of his cigarette sizzles as he stubs it out against the wall and he rubs at his eyes with the heel of his hand, "I just... She's _good_ , you know? She's _amazing_ and I'm waiting for someone to tell me I don't deserve her."

"You _do_ -"

"Really?" He interrupts, striding over to shut the doors between them and the party, spinning back to look at his friend, "After _everything_ that's happened. Do I _really_ deserve her?"

" _Yes_ ," Pansy grits back, "Because you may have been forced into the wrong side at the beginning but you _chose_ the right one at the end. The only person who can decide if you don't deserve her is _her_ , and she's clearly figured out that you two are pretty damn perfect for each other. Stop being a wanker and start thinking Draco." Somehow she's right next to him, hand on his arm and the most gentle look he's ever seen Pansy give anyone, "It's alright to think that way, but everyone around us knows it doesn't matter what we say. You like her, right?"

"Obviously," He sighs, looking over his shoulder and feeling his heart stutter pathetically as Hermione looks up at that same moment and makes eye contact with him, "I really don't want to fuck it up."

"You probably will," Pansy shrugs, reaching for the doors, "And she might too. Just make sure you fix it before it's too late."

Hermione meets him halfway, not even questioning the way he's reaching out for her and how he presses her against the bar; she just tucks her head under his chin and squeezes his middle, "You okay?"

"Yeah," He nods, has to close his eyes because the lights and the sounds around them get too much, "Just... don't ever let me go to bed mad at you. Promise me, you won't let me walk away and never come back."

"Promise you'll do the same for me?"

"I promise."

"Good," She nods, leaning back to cup his cheek and line their mouths together, "Then I promise, too."

* * *

_My past has tasted bitter_

_For years now_

His mother was never always a prominent member of Voldemort's close circle, which made it all the worse when it came to Draco getting the mark. He was making up for his father's mistakes, for his father's failures, and now he's left to pick up the crumbling pieces left behind. He hadn't been able to talk to her for a while after the final battle, even when she'd cried and pleaded with him in front of the Aurors taking his father away, but it had been Hermione to convince him to accept the lunch invitation three months after. 

He's glad for it now, but the anxiousness that rolls of him every time his mother brings up Hermione still comes in full force six months later. 

"Will Hermione be joining us?" It's a casual question, and definitely nothing out of the blue considering how often Draco can be found gripping onto Hermione's hand, but they're sat in the middle of Paris in the middle of the school day and talking about _Hermione_ \- perfect grades, perfect attendance, Head Girl who would never break the rules, _Hermione_.

At the confused look he's giving her, Narcissa sighs and gives him a pointed look, "I specifically requested you bring her, which is why I suggested the port key for when you _both_ had a free period."

"N.E.W.T's are in three weeks, I've barely seen her in the past four days," Draco shrugs, accustomed to his girlfriend's militant study schedule she's hung over her bed, "She honest to god schedules in a maximum of ten minutes a day to talk to other people outside of lessons. I'm not kidding when I say she'd rip my head off if I suggested a trip to Paris."

"You didn't even show her the invitation did you?"

"And waste the thirty seconds that it takes to read it? I was capped at two minutes to talk to her that day, Mother, sorry if it wasn't my main priority."

"That's a shame," Narcissa sighs and looks down at her menu, "She was telling me a rather fascinating story about her summer in Turkey a few years ago."

Draco hums non-committedly and puts the menu down. They've been to this restaurant often enough to know exactly what they'll order without a glance at the menu, so he knows that his mother's only studying it as hard as she is now in order to give Draco some room to breathe and find the words to say. He knows his mother likes Hermione, and it means a lot that she's come around with her previous ideals and accepted his girlfriend so wholely as she has, but he also knows that his mother is going to have setbacks on any of the girls he brings home, and he's not sure why he wants to hear them so bad.

"Out with it, Draco," Narcissa finally snaps her menu shuts and drops all pretense of ignorance, "You've been staring and picking at your nails and they're both terrible habits."

He never really got scolded when he was a child, which makes it all the harder to take now. There's a vague memory of being told off a few times before he started Hogwarts, but then Voldemort was back, and with Death Eaters coming in and out of the house as they pleased both of his parents were too afraid to step a foot out of line in any shape or form, which often left parenting Draco as a second-place concern. So long as Draco was nodding along and saying all the right things out in public, Lucius was pleased enough to throw money at whatever Draco wanted, and as long as Draco kept quiet when meetings were taking place Narcissa was happy to let him do as he pleased.

So it's weird, suddenly, when his mother begins scolding him for habits he's had for years. He's just reaching his eighteenth birthday and his mother's looking at him like he's seven and got his hand caught in the cookie tin. 

"What is it, Draco?" His mother asks again, sipping at her wine.

"What don't you like about Hermione?" He blurts it out with little finesse and totally understands why his mother rolls her eyes at him. 

"What makes you think I don't like her?"

"No, I know you like her," He sits up, wrapping his foot around the leg of his chair to stop his knee from bouncing, "But... you're my mother. There has to be _something_ you're not a fan of." 

"Well, other than this conversation," His mother starts, straightening her cutlery on the table and sniffing, "There's not much. She's a lovely girl, Draco, and I don't know what you want me to say."

He groans and slumps back down, ignoring his mother's sharp glare telling him to get up as the waiter slides their plates of starter salads and chicken Narcissa had ordered in advance in front of them. "I _mean_ ," He mutters, using his fork to stab at the potatoes on his plate, "There has to be something - _anything_ \- that you think I could be doing differently with her."

"Draco, am I meant to say there's something about Hermione I don't like, or something about _you_?"

"Hermione."

"Are you sure?" His mother looks as calm and collected as she always does, which is unfair because her one and only child is having a crisis and he's not sure she's taking this seriously, "Because it sounds like you're having doubts about your relationship and you're waiting for someone to agree with you. If you want to break up with the girl, for Merlin's sake do it and put yourself out of your misery."

"I don't want to break up with her!"

"Then what's your problem?"

"I don't _deserve_ her and I think _she_ should break up with _me_ ," He spears his fork through a green bean and drags it around the sauce slathered over the chicken, "And I'm waiting for someone to tell me that so I can hear how stupid I'm being and just forget about it all."

He can't look at the piercing look he's given and slides further down in his seat in a feeble attempt to hide from it.

"I didn't raise you to be stupid, Draco Lucius Malfoy, so stop acting like it."

"That is not stupid!" He argues, shooting up to glare at her, "It's a legitimate concern-"

"That girl is so completely in love with you it's absurd you'd think anything different," Narcissa's too busy cutting her own chicken to look at the way he bulks at the word 'love', but he does get a kick to his shin so he doesn't think he recovered as quickly as he thought he did, "And maybe you don't deserve her," She adds with a one-shoulder shrug, "She clearly thinks you do."

"But after-"

"I know," It's more gentle than before, and she even reaches over to cup his hand in hers with a soft smile, "I know you think you're some horrible monster after the war. But you have to believe me when I say you're not the only one."

"I know, Blaise and-"

"I'm not talking about the ones on our side," She interrupts, apparently choosing to ignore that it's rude, "Have you and Hermione talked about what she was doing? I have no doubts she's got some reasons to feel insecure about your relationship too. Talk to her, and tell her what you think, maybe she'll knock some sense into you."

* * *

_Grace is just a weakness_

_Or so I've been told_

House unity may be a force to be reckoned with, but Draco's old group of friends find that sometimes it's easier to breathe better when they're not being stared at from all sides of the room. The only place they can go where the whispers don't follow is the edge of the lake, the sound of the water a comforting memory of their old common room. It feels good, just lazing around with his friends in their old spot, ignoring everything around them. The only difference now is Hermione Granger. 

Typically, she's right there with Malfoy, one of them leaning back between the other's thighs, head pillowed on their chests as Blaise or Pansy take the lead in a new argument about Quidditch or the next Hogsmeade trip. Today, though, Hermione's right at the water's edge with Pansy, the girls whispering between themselves as Blaise and Draco stretch across the grass not too far away.

"Weasley talk to you yet?"

Draco picks his head off the grass and squints against the sun towards Blaise, "What?"

"Weasley," Blaise says, charming a quaffle to dive in loops and spins in the air, "Some Ravenclaw told me he was talking about you at lunch today."

"Haven't heard about it," Draco drops back down and tilts his head to watch Hermione, "Happen to know why?"

"Beats me," He hears Blaise say, "Probably about Granger."

"Does Hermione know?"

"Doubt it, she would have told you, right?"

She had something to say to him this morning, he briefly remembers, but she wasn't wearing a shirt and didn't complain when he wrestled her back into bed. It could have been that, but it also could have been about their upcoming exams. It was effort enough to make her lie in on a Saturday, much less drag her out today for some air and a break from the mountain of Transfiguration textbooks she'd set up in the common room. He knows that she's struggling to split her time between him and his friends and time with Harry and Weasley, she if she does know why he's looking for Draco suddenly then it's probably just slipped her mind to mention it.

"Yeah," Draco sighs, "But she might not have if she's not worried about it."

"It's _Weasley_ ," Blaise chuckles, "You really worried about it?"

Not Weasley, per se, but rather the tricks he's picked up whilst they were on the run last year. Draco had left a pretty sizeable hickey on Hermione's neck the other night and the concealment charm she'd put on had worn off right in the middle of a crowded corridor. Pansy had been right there with her and thankfully recast the charm in time, but there have been rumors floating around about it and Draco won't be surprised if Weasley wants to find out if it's true or not.

"What you boys gossiping about?" Pansy sighs, dropping next to Blaise and shaking her wet socks above his head. 

Draco closes his eyes and tunes out their bickering as Hermione settles next to him and runs her fingers through his hair. She's wearing a Muggle band tee that's soft against his cheek as he lifts his head to her lap, and a pair of shorts that Draco really, _really_ likes. 

"You okay?" She presses a kiss to his forehead and huffs as he drags her back down but relents at the first touch of his mouth against hers.

"I'm so good," He murmurs, focused on getting the angle right considering it's upside down, but he doesn't complain when it gets a little sloppy. Pansy does, though, and even flings a sock at them but it misses by a mile and Hermione only pulls away to laugh. 

"Seriously, what were you talking about?" Pansy asks again, searching for her wand in the midst of their shoes and blankets. 

Blaise smirks and turns to Hermione, "Weasley's looking for Draco. Any guesses as to why?"

"Ron?" Hermione asks, eyebrows knit together as she looks back down at Draco. She's blocking out most of the sunlight, but he still has to squint at her and can't imagine he makes a very pretty picture right now.

"No, Arthur," Draco sighs, "My love affair with Molly was released in the paper this morning and now he's out for reven- Ow, Hermione!"

Pansy winks at her as Draco sits upright, rubbing at the back of his neck that Hermione has just pinched, "Nice one," Pansy grins, flipping up the middle finger when Draco glares at her. 

He settles back against his girlfriend and rests the back of his head against her shoulders as she maneuvers to bracket his hips with her thighs, "Seriously, though," Draco sighs, quietly enough for just her to hear, "Do you know why he's looking for me?"

Hermione sighs against his shoulder, "No, but I do know Ginny's convinced him not to talk about what happened in the corridor the other day. I don't know why's so invested in this but-"

"He's in love with you, you blind bat," Draco mutters, squeezing the back of her thigh in his palm, "And he doesn't like that out of _literally everyone_ in the world, you chose me."

Draco gets it. He'd followed his mother's (and Pansy's, and Blaise's and _McGonagall's_ after he'd tuned out of her lesson and broke the cup they were supposed to be turning into different furniture) advice and sat Hermione down and talked about everything he's worried about. Turns out his mother was actually right, and Hermione had burst into relieved tears when he let on how he'd been feeling, telling him she had the same thoughts sometimes and they don't sound as stupid as they think they do. So it's easier, now, actually communicating with Hermione and he's accepted that she won't be breaking up with him anytime soon, but it doesn't make it any easier knowing that her friends still don't trust him. 

Ginny appears to have his back or is at least warming up to him, and he and Harry nod a silent greeting at each other as they pass in the corridors - but Draco doesn't know if that's because of Hermione or because of him throwing Potter his wand during the final battle. Potter and Weasley don't necessarily like him, and Draco can live with that, but he knows it's a source of discomfort for Hermione and he really does just want her to feel happy - and if that means sucking it up and hearing snide comments from Weasley every now and again, he's pretty sure he can handle it.

"Well, I did choose you, so he'll need to get over it," She mutters into his neck, pressing a kiss to his pulse point and grinning around his skin as his fingers flex on her thighs, "I didn't get a say when Lavender was in the picture, so he doesn't get a say now."

"You don't want to talk about our sex life with him?"

"For that comment, I'm never having sex with you again," She laughs as he flips around to tackle her backward, but dodges the kiss he tries to plant on her mouth. It doesn't deter him, though, he just slaps a kiss to the side of her neck and then settles down on her chest, eyelashes skimming her collar, fingers playing with the hem of her tee-shirt at her hips. 

Weasley doesn't show up for another three days, but when he does Draco and Blaise are heading back from Quidditch practice and Weasley's sat outside the Great Hall. He jumps up quickly but doesn't move any further and Draco slows to a stop a few feet ahead of him. Blaise comes to a stop two steps ahead of Draco, slightly in front of him and shoulders tense, ready for whatever's going to happen.

Weasley's wand is tucked behind his ear and easily accessible. Draco's is back in his dorm, on his bed next to Hermione's _Hogwarts: A History_ \- he doesn't need it for Quidditch and Hermione uses it as a bookmark when it's not in his pocket. 

Draco isn't convinced Weasley's going to pull his wand out at him, but he's also not convinced that this isn't going to get ugly. 

He's promised Hermione he won't antagonize her friend anymore, and he's really been making an effort to stay out of any opportunities to run into Weasley. They only share two classes and Weasley's always the last to arrive but first to leave, and if Draco eats with Hermione it's always at the old Slytherin table and away from the red-head. Hermione seems to be spending more and more nights in Draco's bed; a coping mechanism for the both of them, and he knows it pisses Weasley off because of the whispers going around, but Weasley doesn't need to know it's because Hermione cries in her sleep and she's too embarrassed to let the others know that, or that he wakes up screaming sometimes and Hermione's the only one who can remember to put a silencing charm up before they fall asleep. 

"Weasley," Draco grunts once it's become clear the redhead's not going to say anything first, "Can we help you?"

"Where's Hermione?" Straight to the point, and Draco appreciates it. He really doesn't want to spend any longer with Weasley than he absolutely has to.

Draco shifts his broom higher on his shoulder, "Probably with Pansy if she's not with you or Harry. I can tell her you're looking for her-"

"That's fine," Ron interrupts, already moving past him, "I'll find her myself."

"If she's with Pansy she's going to be over our end of the castle," Draco calls after him, jaw tensing at the brush off. Draco's really been making an effort here, and Ron's not even trying. Draco knows Hermione gives Ron more leeway than he's due, and he knows Ron's well aware of it and abuses it at times, but just because he gets away with it with Hermione doesn't mean Draco's going to let it slide.

"Come on, man, if I see her I'll tell her you were looking for her and she can go find you. Where are you going to be-"

"What is your _problem_?" Ron spins and jabs a finger at him, too far aware to hit him but Draco's blood begins to boil.

He drops his broom to the floor and ignores Blaise when he puts a hand to his shoulder, " _My_ problem? What's _my_ problem? Rich coming from you, Weasley. What's _your_ fucking problem."

" _My_ problem, Malfoy, is _you_ , so just sod off."

"Draco, let's go-" Blaise is saying, pushing him back by the shoulder towards Draco's abandoned broomstick, but once Draco concedes and starts to turn away he hears Ron mutter something under his breath and something in him just snaps.

"What was that Weasley?" He spins, stalking closer as Ron takes steps forwards too, fists clenching at his sides, "Let's hear what you have to say, tough guy."

"So you can run to Hermione and tell her all about it? No thanks, _Malfoy_ , I'm good."

Draco can't help but scoff, Hermione's name rubbing him all wrong coming from Weasley, "Oh this is still about Hermione is it?"

" _Of course_ ," Ron grits, actually close enough that Draco can see the twitch of his eye, "Because she's clearly not in her right mind if she's prancing around the castle with _you_ -"

"And what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

Draco definitely didn't say it, and he's glad he held his tongue when he wanted to call Weasley all kinds of names when he feels Hermione step beside him, both of them facing a now red-faced Ron. He doesn't know where she's come from, or how she managed to get so close to hear them without her footsteps echoing in the empty corridors, but he's glad she's here to hear it for herself. It's one thing for Draco to tell her exactly what's just come out of Weasley's mouth, but it's a different thing to hear it from the man himself.

She looks absolutely livid, clearly unimpressed with what's just come out of his mouth, but Draco can see the way her mouth is twisted more into a frown, clearly just as upset too.

He knows that her only family left are her friends, and so their approval of her and Draco's relationship - although not a necessity - would mean a lot. Draco had been a little concerned when his friends just accepted Hermione as easily as they did, had always thought they were secretly harbouring the same thoughts as Ron, but he's glad for it now when Blaise steps towards Weasley again, all tense muscle and menacing frown. 

"Come on, 'Mione," The nickname makes Draco's jaw tense all over again, but he swallows down whatever he was going to blurt out knowing that they've been friends since they were eleven, and just because Draco's only just now graduated from surname to her first name doesn't mean everyone else is on the same level. 

Weasley's still talking, and Hermione looks ready to either crumple onto the floor or pounce, "You can't seriously be... We thought it would..."

"Words, Ron, you know them," Hermione says, a little impatiently, arms crossed and her shoulders only relax when Draco drops his hand to the small of her back. The action doesn't go missed by Ron, who scowls in Draco's direction. 

"Ginny said I wasn't supposed to say anything but- _come on_ , it's been _months_ now. Everyone thought it'd be two weeks at most before you realize how much better you could do and bin him off for good."

The words are like a kick to the teeth, and Draco drops his hand from Hermione once Ron's done talking. He'd _just_ stopped waiting for someone to say it, had just gotten used to thinking that there's a reason Hermione's with him and he should just focus on the good.

And it is good.

It's stupidly good right now. Sure, they've fought a few times but what normal couple hasn't? And they've stuck to their promise and have never gone to bed mad at each other. They know each other like the back of their hands, the sex is amazing and the moments in between are even better. 

And Draco's finally _happy_ , finally used to the idea that he deserves the good that comes with Hermione, only for Ron to come along and completely obliterate everything. 

Hermione's gone deadly silent, which is scarier than when she starts yelling, but even with the lethal glare in her eyes Draco can't help but feel a little smug when she takes his hand and drags him away from Ron, not even heading to Draco's dorm, but her own.

When the castle was under repairs from the battle, and the idea of House Unity was unanimously decided, they'd left the Common Rooms open to all for free reign, but had to make a new set of dorms for the returning students who were unable to complete their seventh year when the castle was ridden with Death Eaters. They have their own wing, stretched across a decent stretch of the floor, and Draco's room just happened to fall at the opposite end of Hermione's. 

They barely go to her's - it's too close to the whispers, too close to Ron and Harry and whatever hidden secrets they have about Hermione's relationship choices. Besides, Draco had lucked out and gotten the dorm closest to the classrooms and library, so it made sense for Hermione to crash in his. Most of her things are there anyway, and she really only sleeps in her own room when they need to be alone after a breakdown when human contact feels like the worst thing in the world. She always comes back to him anyway, after they'd figured out they'd rather sleep at opposite ends of the bed then opposite ends of the corridor. 

Hermione waits until she locks the door after her to start pacing, and the rant that follows is so fast that Draco can't catch any of the words spilling out. The blanket draped over the end of her bed is soft under his hands, and he focuses on surveying the room as Hermione gets everything out of her system. 

She's kicked off a pair of muggle trainers at the door, next to her school shoes, and dropped her bag next to them too. There's a muggle record player next to her wizard radio, and her wand's been thrown on the desk beside her half-written Potions essay. There are stacks of books dotted around the room, Draco's jacket hanging off the hook on the back of the door (he _knew_ she still had it, the liar), and her trunk's been closed with a pair of jeans sticking out. Her beaded bag has been knocked over on her nightstand, and that's _definitely_ a copy of _War and Peace_ sticking out of it.

It's a little funny, to Draco at least, that the pristine Hermione Granger that walks around Hogwarts has such a hap-hazardous room and no one else is ever going to see it. 

" _And_ ," It's the first word in the past four and a half minutes that Draco's managed to actually understand, "The _nerve_ he has. I didn't say _anything_ about Lavender and the way he handled _that monstrosity of a relationship_ , or about how much of a prick he was to Padma at the Yule Ball, and when he walked away last year I felt bad for sticking with Harry even though I was doing the right thing and-"

"Breathe," Draco cuts in, parting his legs when Hermione paces over to him. She carries on ranting as Draco gets his hands on the backs of her thighs and drops his forehead to her stomach, breathing in her scent and focusing on the way her nails scrape gently against his scalp as she plays with her hair.

"And he doesn't get a say," Hermione says now, tugging at his hair to get him to look at her and he's all too willing to comply, "I don't care if he thought this was only going to last two weeks, and I don't care if he thinks that we're bullshit and doomed to fail. Let him think that. I don't think that, and I really hope you not thinking that again either because-"

"I don't think that," Draco confirms, rearranging her so her knees fall to the bed on either side of her hips and she's perched on his lap, "You and I worked way too hard to get here just for me to still be thinking that."

"I just..." She sighs, closing her eyes but leaning into him as Draco skims his mouth against her shoulder, trying to match his heartbeat with her own, "I want him to like you because you both mean so much to me, but he's crossed a line and... he hurt you and that's not... I don't know how to _say it_."

"It's okay," Draco whispers, feeling his throat tighten the same way it does when he's trying to comfort her and doesn't know how too, "Maybe he'll come around and maybe he won't. I'm going to stick with you until you have to physically hex me to make me bugger off," She huffs a laugh against his temple and Draco grins, "You and me, Granger, we're okay."

* * *

_But the blood on my hands scares me to death_

Hermione had to physically push him just seconds before, laughing as he pecked his cheek and ducked away before she was late for her next class, when Potter nearly bumps into him. To be fair, Draco wasn't really paying attention. He was trying to fix his tie and scrub off the taste of Hermione's watermelon lip balm as he turned the corner, and really should have been looking where he was going rather than at the bottom of his shirt that Hermione had somehow untucked without him noticing. 

She never normally lets him press her into an alcove in the corridor and snog her senseless, so he's always a little dazed when she does and the high clings onto him for a good half an hour afterwards too.

Potter doesn't look too put together either, his shirt just as mused as Draco's, and there's a definite redness to his cheeks that hints to Draco that Ginny was with him not too long ago. 

"Malfoy," Potter nods a little jerkily, air thickening with awkwardness the longer they stand there. 

"Potter," He nods back, trying not to think about the fact that after the catastrophe with Ron yesterday Hermione's been avoiding Harry too, lest he take his best friend's side in all of this and make things even worse. She ate breakfast with Draco and his friends, and even shot out of the Great Hall to get to her class before Ron could make his way over. Not like Weasley would have, with Draco right next to Hermione, but she seems to be thinking way too highly of her friend. 

"I, erm... Heard about what happened." Harry comments, readjusting his glasses further up his nose and clearing his throat, "I just wanted... I don't feel the same."

"Huh?" His brain's not really comprehending a lot right now, not after Hermione had done something utterly _brilliant_ with her mouth just a few minutes ago, and the conversation's not really headed where he thought it was going either.

Harry looks just as uncomfortable as Draco feels, even shuffling his feet as he huffs, "What Ron said yesterday, I just want you to know that I don't think the same."

"Oh," It's honestly the best he can come up with, and he feels stupidly proud of himself for tacking on "Okay... er, thanks," at the end of it.

"Okay, good," Harry nods again, which Draco returns just as awkwardly before they wordlessly sidestep each other and head in opposite directions. 

Draco wasn't exactly begging for the approval of Hermione's friends, but the fact that he at least has Harry on his side does relieve whatever stress Ron had given him yesterday. Everyone knows that, at the end of the day, Weasley would follow Potter anywhere, and if Potter decided to back up Draco's side of his relationship with Hermione, then it really is only a matter of time before Ron comes around too, willingly or not. 

He finds Hermione three hours later, tucked in the corner of the library with a few dozen textbooks all around her and an ink stain at the corner of her mouth. She jumps when he presses a kiss to the top of her head, but settles against him when he straddles the bench she's on and reaches up to wipe at the ink. 

"How's studying going?" He asks, even though he's already leaning in to kiss her once all the ink's gone. The way she hums against his mouth is intoxicating, and for the second time that day she has to push him away before they get too heated in a public place.

"You're distracting me," She half-whines, making a poor attempt to turn back to her books only to close the one in front of her and angle to face him, "How was your day?"

He shrugs with one shoulder and flicks at the piece of parchment next to him, "Alright. Ran into Potter."

Hermione stills and digs her fingers into his knee, "What did he say?"

"You have very little faith in your friends, darling," Draco kisses the frown away, tries to wonder at what point he became so comfortable with showing affection in public, "He said he didn't side with Weasley in this."

"That's it?"

"We're not exactly making friendship bracelets for each other," Draco quirks an eyebrow, "We might not hate each other anymore but the less words we can share the better, honestly."

"Oh, okay, well... that's good," Hermione nods matter of factly, already packing everything away into her bag, "He's alright with us?"

"Peachy," Draco nods, furrowing his eyebrows as Hermione grips his hand roughly and tugs him up to stand, "Where are we going?"

"Your room," She says, leading the way out the library with a sway of her hips that tells him exactly what she has in store for him.

Dumbly, he comments, "But you have to study."

"So you _don't_ want to have sex with me?" 

She squeals as he grips her hips and ushers her to move faster, her bag knocking against his knees as they bypass a Hufflepuff, but Draco's too busy ducking down to nip at her earlobe to bother looking back to see the damage, "Keep it moving, Granger."

* * *

_I'll be good_

Honestly, Draco really should have known that Ginny would be quick and snappy with it - no fuss, just complete trust that Hermione knows what's doing and that Ginny doesn't need to be in the forefront of this picture to assert her support for her friend.

If Draco was being truthful, he was kind of hoping that Ginny would skip the whole 'protective friend' thing and just go straight to whatever other stage is after it, but she seems to be mixing the stages together and that's quite possibly more concerning than anything else. 

When she plops herself down next to Draco, Hermione's napping against his chest as they lay out beside the lake, everyone either in their Common Rooms or heading down to Hogsmeade. They'd had a rough night, both of them unable to fall asleep when the corners of the rooms were so dark, and decided to avoid the bustle of Hogsmeade. Hermione had been reading before she fell asleep, reading aloud to him, but he doesn't so much mind listening to the even in-and-out of her breath against his shoulder - besides, it's easier to follow along with than _War and Peace_.

"You look like crap," Ginny helpfully comments, stretching her legs out and crossing her ankles, leaning up on her elbows and doing absolutely nothing to block out the sun next to her head. 

"Thanks," He grumbles, inching his leg slightly to the left to get the blood flowing again, "You sure do know how to make people feel special."

Ginny rolls her eyes but there's no malice behind it, gaze softening as Hermione whimpers in her sleep and nestles closer to Draco. Her nose is cold against the dip of his shoulder and the huff she releases makes him shiver, but she's calmed down again and Draco can put up with it for a little before getting her into an actual bed. 

"I'm sorry," Ginny says, gently but still a little forceful, "About my brother and how he's handled all of this."

"I don't really blame him," Draco shrugs, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. He can only just handle Hermione looking at him so tenderly, but it's different when Ginny looks at him that way. He expects it from Hermione, knows when it's coming and how to accept it most times, but it's difficult acknowledging the fact that other people have adopted the same thoughts as Hermione - _you can't pin it all on him, if everyone else is getting a second chance why can't he, it's not a blank slate he's getting but it is a fresh start._

"He's still a tosser for it," Ginny's saying, "And he's going to have to carry on being a tosser because Hermione's into you and not going to cave anytime soon. Besides, you're good with her... you're probably what's best for her right now."

"I'm definitely _not_ what's best for her," He can accept Hermione's attention, her utter conviction that he's just as pure as she is, and everything else that comes with Hermione's nurture side; but to say that Draco is what Hermione deserves or even _needs_ right now is just plain stupid. He knows he's not. Hermione needs stability and nurturing right back, and Draco's not stable enough to nurture when she needs it sometimes. Hermione needs someone completely whole, and that's not him; needs someone who she can count on to be there every time it gets tough, to bite their tongue and keep going even when they're breaking, and Draco knows that's not him because it's a struggle to get out of bed some mornings. 

He knows he's not the best for Hermione, because every single one of her needs he shares with her, he needs just as much as she does, but he can't begin to help Hermione piece herself together when he's full of missing pieces too. 

He _wants_ to be the best for Hermione, which he hopes is enough to sidetrack all of the other stuff for now, and he knows Hermione _wants_ to be the best for him too, which he knows is enough to sidetrack any of her own insecurities rattling around too. 

The idea of not being with her in a few years - of them growing apart, with or without the post-struggles of everything they've been through - actually physically hurts to think about, but he knows that right now they're nowhere close to that, knows that Hermione prefers sleeping in his bed and has doesn't have any more quims about him snogging her senseless in a crowded corridor. 

"But you know that," Draco opens his eyes to look at Ginny as she talks, only to find she's watching the way Hermione's fingers curl and flex against the sleeve of his shirt in her sleep, "You know all of that and instead of running away you're sticking it out. She needs that right now. Consistency - and you're the only one right now that can give her that. _That's_ why you're the best thing for her, because you're not giving up on her."

"That's a pretty low bar to set," He swallows around the lump in his throat, chooses to crack a shitty joke instead of acknowledging how much is packed into so little words.

Ginny rolls her eyes again and stands up, brushing off imaginary dirt from her jeans, "Anyway, ignore my brother, he can be an arse when he thinks he's right. And, er- you have my... approval? Or whatever it is. See ya later, Malfoy."

* * *

_For all of the time I never could_

She steals his Quidditch jumper regularly, the knitted fabric falling to the middle of her thighs and rolling past her fingertips. Her hair's spilling across his pillows, wand resting across her stomach as her eyes follow her Patronus weave around the room. She's paired his jumper with a pair of his socks and not much else, but it's the domestic quality of stumbling into his room and finding her already there, some Muggle band playing over his radio, textbooks pushed, aside that knocks him off-kilter. 

"How was practice?" She asks, a little absentmindedly as the otter above her head swoops in large figure of eights.

"Cold without this," He tugs at the hem of the jumper she's stolen, crawling the rest of the way up her body to nestle into the curve of her neck and place a kiss to the crevice of her collar, "How's studying?"

"I know everything so it's gotten boring," She murmurs, raking her nails against his scalp and humming as he drops his mouth back up to her neck, "Missed you."

"Missed you too," He travels up her neck to mouth at her jaw, smiles around it as he feels her cheeks tug up around her own smile. She's still smiling when he pushes up, resting his elbows either side of her head and pushing her hair away from her face with his palms, "So... that's everyone, huh?"

Hermione lets out a breath and nods, "That's everyone."

There's a forlorn look on her face, one that tells him it's definitely not everyone, but it disappears when he drops a kiss to her mouth and curls a strand of her hair around his finger, "For now."

"For now?"

"Yeah," He nods, falling onto his back beside her and slotting their hands together, casting his own Patronus so that fox and otter float across the room in a mad chase, "For now."

"And what does that mean, exactly?" Hermione rolls to her stomach, pillowing her head against Draco's outstretched arm and tapping out a slow rhythm to his shoulder, "For now?"

"For now means," He sighs, hitching her thigh over his body to pull her closer and rest their foreheads together, "One day, I'm going to meet them and then we get to do this all over again."

 _I'm going to meet your parents, we're going to defend this relationship one more time if needs be,_ It's all unspoken, and yet she just knows. Because of course, she does, it's _Hermione_. 

Hermione pauses for a moment, a lot of emotion building in her eyes that Draco can't even begin to try and depicture, but then she's surging forward to wrap her arms around his neck and claim his mouth in a bruising kiss. 

"I love you," She whispers between rushed kisses, and Draco kind of wants to slow it down, to really savour the moment and the way that the whispy white lights of their Patronuses cast dancing movements in her hair, but finds that he can't, not after the way those three words sound so confident. 

He cradles her head in his hands and angles her jaw just right to press her even closer, to swipe his tongue across her bottom lip seconds before catching it between his teeth and pulling slightly.

"I love you too," He turns to press her into the mattress, ignoring the growing darkness as their Patronuses fade out above them.

"For now?" She teases, looking a little overwhelmed but still pressing up into him all the same. 

"No," Draco shakes his head, taking in the busy nest of curls, the swollen bottom lip, the flushed cheeks, the way his jumper hangs off her shoulders in the most gorgeous way he's ever seen. When her hand reaches up to curl around his cheek it just feels natural to press a kiss to her palm, to nestle into the warmth she radiates, and there's no anxiety when he opens his eyes to find her already watching. 

"I'm always going to love you, Hermione Granger," He whispers into the silence of his room, loving the way her lips tug up quicker than her eyes brighten, the way she sinks into the comforter underneath her as the words settle in and the way she pulls him with her, "I don't know what you've done to me, but I never want to stop loving you."

"Good, because I'm never going to fall out of love with you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," She smiles up at him, making him feel every bit of loved that he _knows_ she feels for him, "You're stuck with me now, Malfoy."


End file.
